


Vegas is a Hockey Town

by saltlicorice



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-07-20 10:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltlicorice/pseuds/saltlicorice
Summary: Nicke waits until they’re back in the locker room and everyone has stripped off at least two layers of clothing and been sprayed liberally with champagne.While the team is singingWe Are The Championsfor the third time, he pulls Sasha in close and asks, “Will you marry me?  Tonight?”





	Vegas is a Hockey Town

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ancientdeceiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancientdeceiver/gifts).



> grubauers – I really hope you enjoy this! I didn't get a chance to write a timestamp last spring, so I appreciated the chance to write about the Cup win. 
> 
> Thank you [Effy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fourthlinewinger) for beta reading, and for cheering for the Caps with me.

Sasha said he would give the cup to Nicke. He said it ten years ago – “We never give up. We believe in each other,” declared to anyone who cared to listen. He said it twenty minutes ago – “After me, I give it to you, baby,” murmured into the shoulder of Nicke’s pads.

 

Sasha gives the Cup to Nicke. He skates right up to Nicke, roaring in his face and handing the cup over so gently, mindful of the broken fingers Nicke can’t even feel.

The Cup feels light in Nicke’s arms. Maybe it’s the euphoria. Maybe it’s Sasha skating back to hold the other end of the cup.

Nicke wants to keep this forever. He never wants to let go of the Cup. More than that, he never wants to let go of Sasha.

He’ll have to fight to keep the Cup, they all will. Sasha though, Nicke thinks he can keep Sasha without a fight. He doesn’t think Sasha wants to let go either. All Nicke has to do is ask.

 

Nicke waits until they’re back in the locker room and everyone has stripped off at least two layers of clothing and been sprayed liberally with champagne. 

While the team is singing _We Are The Champions_ for the third time, he pulls Sasha in close and asks, “Will you marry me? Tonight?”

Sasha looks stunned. Nicke saw the same expression on his face when the final goal horn sounded. Sasha doesn't scream this time, or run. He clamps his hands over Nicke’s shoulders and presses his forehead to Nicke’s forehead. He says, “Yes, of course, yes,” and kisses Nicke swiftly.

 

Getting married is surprisingly easy. Nicke supposes it helps that they’re in Vegas, and that the team staff is happy to help, and that he and Sasha aren’t too particular about the details.

They talk to a few of the front office guys before they get on the bus back to the hotel, coaxing them past their initial surprise and readily agreeing that the Capital-themed decorations and desserts can pull double duty. They endure some good-natured ribbing about whether they want Elvis or Cher or Wayne Gretzky as their minister.

“You can get Gretzky?” Nicke asks incredulously.

Craig grins. “Haven’t you heard? Vegas is a hockey town now. I bet there will be Ovechkin ministers this time next year.”

Sasha guffaws, and Nicke can't help chuckling along. “Just a minister, please?” he asks, as Sasha plasters himself to Nicke’s back, still laughing. “Not dressed up as anyone?”

“You got it,” Craig replies.

 

They return to their hotel and the Cup finds its way back to Sasha. He looks magnificent with it, holding court at the center of the ballroom the team has taken over. The exhaustion and worry that have been weighing him down for weeks, or years really, have suddenly vanished. Nicke leans against the wall, twirling his champagne flute begtween his fingers, and looks his fill.

Holts joins him there a moment later and follows the line of Nicke’s gaze. “Stanley Cup Champion’s a good look on your guy,” he says.

Nicke nods without taking his eyes off Sasha. “Good look for the whole team.”

“Hell yeah!” Holts replies, clinking his beer can against Nicke’s champagne flute. 

Nicke sips his champagne as Holts finishes his beer. “We’re getting married tonight,” Nicke says.

“Tonight?” Holts sputters. “Was this planned?”

“Not at all. Will you guys mind?” Nicke asks, realizing that his teammates may not want their Cup celebration co-opted for a wedding. It isn’t only his and Sasha’s Cup, after all.

Holts grabs his arm. “Are you kidding? This is the best idea ever! Everyone’s going to love it!”

Nicke brushes his hand over Holts’s, where it’s still resting on Nicke’s arm. “Thanks.” The worry drains out of him as quickly as it came.

“Seriously, congratulations!” Holts pulls Nicke into a hug, then holds him at arm’s length. “Stanley Cup and a wedding! Living the dream,” he yells.

Nicke hugs him back. Tonight does feel like a dream.

 

Holts must tell everyone, because a few minutes later Nicke is talking to Sasha and watching the Cup get passed around the room when André barrels into them from one side and Kuzy from the other. They barely avoid tumbling into a buffet table.

“Papa! You’re getting married!” André screams.

“I know,” Nicke replies dryly. He’s pretty sure Kuzy is congratulating Sasha, but the room is too loud and their Russian is too fast for him to follow their conversation.

“I’m so happy!” André throws both arms around Nicke.

“Thank you!” Nicke yells back, a little muffled by André’s shoulder.

“Can I be your best man?” André asks. “Or your ring bearer?” 

Nicke hadn’t considered best men, but André is a very good friend, and he’s still Nicke’s rookie. “Sure,” Nicke tells him. “Best man, though. We don’t have rings.”

“You don’t have rings?” Kuzy asks, sounding shocked. His impossibly wide eyes may be genuinely dismayed, but they’re probably teasing.

Sasha looks over at Nicke questioningly, and Nicke considers it. The prospect of exchanging rings hastily bought by someone else sits sour in his stomach. 

Sasha must feel the same way because he asks, “We exchange jerseys? From tonight?”

Nicke pictures it: keeping the jersey Sasha wore to victory, while Sasha keeps his. He can’t think of anything better. “Yes. I love you,” he says. He leans in and kisses Sasha hard.

He vaguely registers Kuzy tugging André away as Sasha kisses him back.

 

The ceremony itself is simple. The staff comes through, bringing in a steely haired minister named Donna, dressed as no one but herself. Nicke and Sasha are shuffled off to the back of the room to sign their marriage license in front of a municipal employee, who declares herself a Knights fan but looks delighted anyways.

Everyone else arranges the chairs in rows facing the raised dance floor, where Donna is standing next to the Cup. Nicke surveys his teammates as they settle into their seats. A lot of the guys have drinks or plates in their hands. None of them are quiet. Grubi is sitting on Carly’s lap. Tiger isn’t wearing a shirt. It’s perfect.

Batya comes over then, and gives Nicke and Sasha two folded jerseys. “Craig said to give these to you guys. Are you really getting married in jerseys?”

“Nah, just exchanging them,” Sasha says. 

Nicke nods. Wearing them would be a little too much, even for them, even tonight. Besides, Sasha has rolled up the sleeves of his pink button-up, and it’s doing very nice things for his complexion and his forearms.

“Only you two,” Batya laughs. “Congratulations!” He shakes his head, and goes back to his seat. 

Sasha examines the jerseys and hands Nicke the one that says _Backstrom_. Nicke stares it, a little amazed that mere hours have passed since he wore it to victory, since they all became Stanley Cup champions. He makes a mental note to thank the staff for cleaning the jerseys so quickly.

Kuzy bounds over to them with André in tow. “Are we walking down the aisle?”

Nicke looks pointedly at the rows of chairs with no aisle, then turns to Kuzy and raises his eyebrows.

“We could make an aisle,” André suggests.

Sasha snorts.

Nicke takes Sasha’s hand. “Come on, let’s get married.”

“Yes, let's.” Sasha replies, and leads the way to the edge of dancefloor where Donna and the Cup are waiting. 

Their teammates cheer and whistle. They find their places: Nicke and Sasha facing each other over the cup, with André and Kuzy flanking them.

André hooks his chin over Nicke’s shoulder and takes the jersey from Nicke’s hands. His breath reeks of alcohol, strong enough for Nicke to notice even though they’ve all practically been bathing in the stuff. “You’re getting married,” he whispers.

“I know,” Nicke replies, smiling. He does. It’s amazing.

Nicke watches as Sasha brings a finger to his lips and shushes the room. The exuberant cacophony gives way to a smattering of laughter.

Sasha grins at Nicke, eyes dancing, and Nicke’s heart catches in his throat.

He stares at Sasha while Donna says her part, something about being gathered here today to celebrate a joining of hearts. 

That’s right, Nicke thinks. They’re gathered to celebrate a joining of hearts and minds and bodies. His and Sasha’s, of course, but the teams’ too. They’re also gathered to celebrate the team coming together and accomplishing something amazing. They all won the Stanley Cup tonight.

They’re gathered to celebrate eleven years. Eleven years of Sasha and Nicke on the ice together. Off the ice together, too. Eleven years of centering themselves around each other and centering a team around themselves. Eleven years of having a team.

Nicke might be losing himself in Sasha’s eyes. They’re blue, as icy as any rink. Tonight feels inevitable now. How could everything they’ve been through together have ended anywhere but here?

Sasha looks away from Nicke, towards Donna. Right, she just prompted them for vows.

Nicke freezes. He has no idea how to put what he’s feeling into words.

Sasha smiles at him, and takes both of Nicke’s hands in his, grip gentle around Nicke’s fractured fingers again. Nicke squeezes Sashe’s hands – he’s not going to break under a little pressure.

“Backy?” Sasha asks seriously. “One hundred more?”

Nicke flashes to Sasha finding him after every round, bright eyes and wild grin focused down to something private and fierce.

 _Sixteen more._ At the end of a brilliant regular season that still didn’t live up to their own last two seasons. 

_Twelve more._ After coming from behind and not letting up.

 _Eight more._ Having vanquished the Penguins at long last, with Nicke sidelined.

 _Four more._ Reeling from that roller coaster of a series with fifteen kilos of silver close enough to taste.

Those sixteen wins belong to the team, but they belong to Sasha too, in the way he took shot after shot, the way he led the team and encouraged them, put the team on his back, dragged them with him when they needed him needed to, never gave up on them.

Sasha had sixteen wins and he gave them to Nicke. Of course Nicke wants to give him one hundred more. One hundred wins, or years, or lifetimes. It hardly matters what – Nicke’s answer is the same.

“Yes,” Nicke breathes. “Yes. One hundred more. Forever more.”

“Forever,” Sasha repeats, sounding as wondrous as Nicke feels.

Donna must realize that’s all they have for vows because she turns to Sasha and asks, “Alexander Mikhailovich Ovechkin, do you take Lars Nicklas Bäckström to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” Sasha replies, handing Nicke his championship jersey. Nicke presses it to his chest for a moment.

“And do you, Lars Nicklas Bäckström, take Alexander Mikhailovich Ovechkin to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.” Of course Nicke does. Of course he takes this beautiful, remarkable man beaming at him over the Stanley Cup as his husband. 

André passes Nicke’s jersey back to him, and Nicke hands it to Sasha, never looking away from his eyes.

“You may now kiss,” Donna says.

Nicke surges forward, wrapping his arms around Sasha and pouring his entire heart into kissing him, almost forgetting the Cup digging into their legs. Almost.

Sasha must not entirely forget the Cup either, because he pulls back from Nicke and picks it up, beaming. Nicke grasps the Cup too, and they lift it together.

They kiss underneath it. The wild cheers surrounding them nearly drown out Donna saying, “I pronounce you husband and husband.”

And they’re married. Nicke is married to Sasha.

They pull apart before the screaming quiets. Nicke isn’t certain it ever will: their team has an awful lot to celebrate. He leans his shoulder against Sasha’s as they watch their teammates and coaches and staff. 

Sasha lets go of the Cup with one hand and brings a finger to his lips again.

Nicke laughs as Sasha shushes their teammates. In an alternate universe, Sasha wouldn’t make a bad kindergarten teacher.

When the room is quiet, Sasha beams at everyone. “Hey, babes. We couldn’t have done without all of you. Not the Cup, not the wedding, none of it. So, thank you.”

“Thank you,” Nicke echoes.

The room erupts into a fresh round of cheers.

Nicke sets the Cup down and pulls Sasha into another kiss, wrapping both arms around Sasha’s back and letting Sasha’s championship jersey – Sasha’s wedding jersey – dangle from his hands. He’s not sure what else to do. 

That question is quickly answered by his teammates, whose screaming cheers have coalesced into a chant of “Dance! Dance! Dance!”

Nicke doesn’t dance. None of them do, not really. Some of the guys don’t mind making fools of themselves pretending, though. Nicke thinks of Mackan hopping around to a drumbeat in the Bahamas. He wishes Mackan were here now. He wishes a lot of former teammates were here now.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to indulge the guys who are here now. Tommy is talking to the DJ in the corner. Dima is dancing in his seat, pulling a reluctant looking Nisky along with him. And Sasha is standing in front of Nicke, radiant, even as he shakes his hips ridiculously.

 _We are the Champions_ blasts from the speakers a moment later, and Nicke moves his hands to Sasha’s hips. Sasha throws both his arms over Nicke’s shoulders. “We’re married!” he hollers over the music.

“We are!” Nicke shouts back, tightening his arms to pull Sasha closer. They’re shuffling around in a clumsy slow dance that’s absurdly unsuited to the song.

When he looks away from Sasha, he sees that the entire team is on their feet, swaying along with the music. They’re singing too, equal parts terrible and enthusiastic. Nicke loves them.

“I love you,” he whispers to Sasha, tucking his head in close to be heard.

“I love you too,” Sasha whispers back.

Nicke tugs Sasha off the dancefloor when the song ends. He isn’t sure where they’re going, and he doesn’t get the chance to figure it out, because Trotz is there, pulling both of them into a hug. “Congratulations!” he yells up at them. “I didn’t think I could be any prouder of you two.”

“Thank you!” Sasha replies.

After that, they’re passed around between an endless stream of teammates and coaches and staffers, who want to hug them and congratulate them and take pictures with them. Nicke wonders if this is what the Cup would feel if it could feel. It’s not a bad feeling.

Speaking of the Cup, Nicke hasn’t seen it since he and Sasha kissed under it. The realization sends a jolt of panic through him.

“Backy?” Sasha asks, worried.

“The Cup?” Nicke replies, feeling foolish. The Cup is here, in this room, with them, even if Nicke can’t see it.

Sasha doesn’t laugh, though. He grabs Nicke’s arms, and turns him towards the dance floor. “It’s there,” he says, reaching over Nicke’s shoulder to point to where Tommy and Devo are holding V nearly upside-down, so he can drink out of the Cup as though it’s a keg.

“Cup stand,” Sasha says, as Nicke laughs helplessly.

Sasha clasps his hands over Nicke’s chest, and Nicke leans back, tipping his head against Sasha’s shoulder and letting Sasha hold some of his weight.

They stand like that, swaying slightly, with Sasha’s hands over Nicke’s heart, as Nate and Conno and TJ take their turns drinking out of the Cup in the most impractical way possible. Nicke has a feeling Cup stands are going to become a team tradition.

Things blur together after that. There’s champagne and beer and a chocolate sheet cake that's been obviously redecorated to read _Just Married!_ Its vanilla counterpart still says _Stanley Cup Champions!_.

Sasha does a Cup stand. Grubi pulls everyone into a conga line. _We are the Champions_ gets played a few more times. Nicke and Sasha toast the team and the Cup. Someone raises the Cup to toast their marriage.

 

The party moves to the plane at some point and starts winding down. Nicke changes into sweatpants. The Cup returns to its rightful place in Sasha’s arms.

People start dropping off. The rookies form a giant puppy pile topped by Djoos and Bowey. André’s feet are barely visible at the bottom. Beags has a Winter Classic beanie pulled down over his eyes. Kuzy is using Dima’s lap as a pillow. 

Nicke still feels too wired to sleep. He finds Sasha in a corner of the plane, curled around the Cup and snoring lightly. He snaps a picture before putting his phone away and sinking onto the cushion next to Sasha’s head. Nicke runs a hand through Sasha’s hair, strokes it over the Cup, and watches his sleeping teammates.

He couldn’t ask for a better playoff run or wedding or team or husband.

**Author's Note:**

> The Washington Capitals are Stanley Cup Champions!!!


End file.
